


Change

by AddictedPenguin



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Did I Mention Angst?, M/M, Post-Series, SaruMi - Freeform, Self Harm, Swearing, Verbal Abuse, mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-07-22 14:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7442191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AddictedPenguin/pseuds/AddictedPenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after the destruction of the Dresden Slate Yata Misaki has a stable job, and an amazing relationship. His life is looking extremely well at this point. If you’d ask him, he would say that he and Saruhiko are finally, truly happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I'd take a break from angst to write more angst.

A loud sigh resounds through the empty office, almost inaudible through the hard whooshing sound of the two large fans that are aimed at the red-haired figure behind the desk. It’s early July, and he is surrounded by boxes, which are filled with even smaller boxes, and therein endless folders of paperwork. Something Yata never thought he’d be doing.   
  
He is recently promoted to manager of the sporting equipment store he has been working fulltime at for years now, with Yata’s new position his boss had thought of it as a good idea to transfer all their old records into digital files. It’s actually a great idea, safer too, in connection with fire safety, but if Yata would have known that his mandate would change from helping customers to sitting in a way too hot office without air conditioning, surrounded by dozens of boxes with years of administrating, whilst staring at an old computer screen for hours; he would much rather have stayed a salesperson. It’s not as if his job description has changed officially, but it’s what it feels like. He takes more joy in selling sport shoes, accessories, skateboards and whatever, if it means he’d be actually working in the store. _With_ air conditioning.    
  
He sighs once again and takes a new stack of papers out of its box.  
  
“ _Administration 2012/2013”_ is written on the front with a black marker.   
  
He had just started with the files from 2000/2001, so he should not be looking into this yet. However, he can’t help but be a tiny bit curious about the content of the box. 2013 is the year that his entire life had changed, after all. He closed a big chapter of his life, and it was the beginning of something new.  
  
He hurriedly opens the box, and soon he finds what he’s looking for. His own application letter.   
  
**_Date:_** _27-05-2013 **  
Name** : Yata Misaki  
**Age** : 20  
**Job** **experience** : None  
**Motivation** : I’m looking for a job, and I really like sports  
  
  
_Yata can feel his face glowing as he’s reading his application, written in a messy handwriting. His first name is obviously added later, with a different pen colour too, because he could not submit his letter with only his surname. When he reads his motivation he realises he was lucky that the owner himself had offered him a job in person and told him the letter of application would only be for the records, otherwise he would never have been accepted. _  
_  
It wasn’t that getting a job had drastically changed his life, but the reason why he was looking for a job. After the Dresden Slate was destroyed three years ago he had started helping Kusanagi as much as possible in his bar, but he felt guilty as he received his payment from his boss, and friend. It just felt _wrong._ Determined, he went looking for a job on his own, but since he never finished high school, and he has no diplomas, that was easier said than done.   
  
However, soon he was offered a job as sales assistant in his favourite store, where he always bought his shoes and everything for his skateboard. He got hired under the condition that he would occasionally look after the children of his boss. It was a win-win situation for both parties. He has been working there for nearly three years there, and he still enjoys it. He even got the opportunity to promote them by skating through the city with flyers he had designed (with Anna’s help). His latest promotion plan had been such a success that he was offered a full-contract as manager.   
  
It gave him a lot of experience, social skills, as well as a great sense of responsibility. He has become more mature over the years, which has also affected his relationship with Saruhiko.  
  
Fushimi Saruhiko, his boyfriend, whom he has been living together with and _dating_ for nearly three years too. After their encounter in the park, where they helped a child in need when their balloon got stuck in a tree (it wasn’t as if this was his most heroic deed ever, but Yata is still very fond of that memory), the redhead had invited the other to come watch his skateboard competition.  
  
“ _I am not that free.”  
  
_ Is what he had replied, but on the day of the completion, Saruhiko may have been more surprised than Yata himself, but he _did_ show up, almost on time too. Yata had been good the day of the competition, amazing according to his friends and former King, but not good enough to qualify himself for the international competition in America. Honestly speaking, at that time it hadn’t mattered as much as he thought it would, because Saruhiko had come nonetheless, and that secretly meant more to him than actually winning. From that time on their relationship went uphill. Slowly they started rebuilding their relationship. They went from former friends turned into enemies, to acquaintances, to friends again, and ultimately, after months of talking and regaining each other’s trust, lovers.   
  
They had quickly, _too quickly,_ decided to start living together again, first as friends. It had cost them blood, sweat, tears and alcohol (lots of alcohol), to put their differences aside. One particular night, after finishing the bottle of expensive liquor Saruhiko had gotten for his twenty-first birthday from his former King, in the middle of a heated argument; Yata had been so fed up with fighting all the time that he had kissed him.   
  
“ _Shut up, Monkey!”  
  
_ Saruhiko, who tends to fall back into old habits whenever they had an argument, and had been slurring since he finished his second glass, answered: _“Why don’t you make me, Misaki~?”_  
  
How Yata had showed him when he grabbed the taller of the two of them by the collar, yanked him down and crashed their lips together. It had worked, however, because from that night on, they had been inseparable again.   
  
Saruhiko takes up a lot of time, effort, and patience, and it takes even more of that to understand him. After spending so much time together as an actual couple, they developed a stable balance between love and bickering, and the sex following after a major argument (which still happens frequently even after years of being together), is even better than the regular sex between them.   
  
Yata blushes at this thought. His life is looking extremely well at this point. If you’d ask him, he would say that he and Saruhiko are finally, truly happy.  
  
But we’re not asking Yata.

* * *

Fushimi shuts the door of his apartment behind him, standing motionless in the hallway as he lets his eyes adjust to the darkness surrounding him. There’s not a single light on in their house, it seems. A quick glance down to the floor tells him that his boyfriend is home already, because his shoes are messily kicked out on the ground. Fushimi clicks loudly with his tongue. That idiot must have come home before the sun went down, fell asleep, and forgot to turn on the lights.   
  
And he is right, as usual, because as soon as he steps into the sitting room he finds a mess on the floor, and his boyfriend sprawled on the sofa. One arm hanging over the edge of the cushions and his _PS_ _Vita_ is located directly under his hand on the floor. After a brief moment of irritation sinking in, Fushimi’s lips twitch upwards. He steps over the stray skateboard, and crouches down beside him in front of the sofa.   
  
“Oi.”  
  
He pokes the ginger’s cheek with his finger. Misaki makes a soft, stirring noise in his sleep, and there’s a tiny trickle of drool running down over his cheek. _Cute_.  
  
His eyes slide over his boyfriend’s body. His navy blue work polo, which was a little too big for him when he first got it, is hiked up and revealing his toned stomach. Misaki has certainly not grown in length over the years, but he has become broader. More muscular. When his colleague’s at the sporting store were bragging about all the hours they spend working out at the gym the ginger felt left out and immediately applied for a membership. It became more than just something to bond about with his co-workers and he started going more frequently as a way of releasing all the stress he holds in that tiny body. Not very long after, Fushimi started to notice the change in his boyfriend’s appearance. He always was good looking, small but muscular, but it is nothing compared to the strong arms and broad shoulders that identify him now. No longer does anyone mistake him for a lost high school student. About time, at the age of twenty-three.   
  
Fushimi hadn’t been sitting still either, working for the government does not mean sit behind a computer all day. It is of course, most of his working time he spends with his eyes on a screen in a cramped position, but it is required for him to keep in good shape too. The Scepter4 building, in which he still works to this day, was subjected to a few changes. The dojo where they used to have sword practice was transformed into a personal gym for both the officers in the field who need to train, as the office workers who are in need for some time off. Fushimi belongs to the latter group, of course, and even though the thought of getting all sweaty for a different cause than having intercourse with his boyfriend was not very appealing to him at first, he does actually enjoy the time alone in the late evening to get his stiff limbs working again after a long shift.   
  
He’s aware of the looks they are getting when they are walking hand in hand over the streets. It’s rarely someone disproving of their relationship, it’s envy.   
  
The raven brings his face closer to his boyfriend’s, his fingers brushing over the exposed abs.   
  
“Mi~sa~ki~”  
  
Two hazel coloured eyes meet his icy-blue ones.   
  
“What?” The redhead’s eyes quickly shift down to the lower part of his body, where Fushimi is still touching him. Much to the taller’s disappointment, Misaki flinches away. “A-And what are you doing?! I was sleeping!”   
  
“Isn’t it obvious, Misaki?” Fushimi purrs, with an all too familiar smirk curling on his lips. Even after all this time, Misaki can still wear the expression of a scared rabbit, looking straight into the lights of an approaching car. _Beautiful._ Yata Misaki, his prey. He leans in closer until his lips are touching the others, and then…  
  
Misaki’s lips are parted, but not in a way that’s exactly _inviting_ Fushimi to kiss him. He’s yawning. He is bloody _yawning_ while Fushimi is trying to create an … atmosphere between them. The younger one of the two clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Am I boring you?”  
  
Misaki, who managed to bring up the decency to cover up his mouth with his hand now instead of leaving it hanging wide open, absently gazes at him. “Sorry ‘bout that, Saru. I’ve just had a tough day at work. Boss’ making me do all the paperwork now.”   
  
“Welcome to the real world, Misaki.” Fushimi deadpans.  
  
“Hey!” The ginger pushes himself up into sitting position on their sofa. “I have been a part of that world since I started working!”   
  
“You can hardly call what you’ve been doing up till now ‘work’, Misaki.”   
  
“Shut up, Saru! I did not choose to sit in an office without air conditioning all day unlike you!”  
  
Fushimi stares at him as if the redhead had grown an extra pair of arms. “You think that I _enjoy_ my job?”  
  
Misaki shift uncomfortably on the sofa, it seems arguing with his boyfriend was not exactly the first thing he wanted to do after he woke up from a nap. Fushimi feels irritation boiling up inside of him, although he cannot quite place _where_ this feeling is coming from. It would be best now for Misaki to keep his mouth shut and wait until Fushimi is done raging, but that would mean that the impulsive redhead should remain quiet while the other one is swinging accusations right at his head. Fushimi knows that if there’s one thing the previous vanguard of Homra hates, it’s injustice.  
  
Fushimi’s not sure if he’s still seriously waiting for an answer. His partner seems to be facing the same problem as they both remain silent. It suddenly dawns to him that Misaki might be trying a new strategy on him, one where he just stays quiet and keeps stupidly staring at him instead. Their constant bickering over the years resulted in Misaki trying different ‘strategies’ on how to deal with Fushimi’s quickly changing moods before their fights escalate. The thought of what might be going through his boyfriend’s head only increases Fushimi’s irritation. At this point it would probably make no difference whatever Misaki says or does, all he can do is annoy him further and bring the mood down.  
  
_What else did you expect?  
  
_ “I did not mean it like _that,_ ” his boyfriend starts, speaking slowly as if carefully choosing his words. How out of character of him. This is ridiculous. Are they honestly arguing about whether Fushimi enjoys doing his job or not? Even the smallest issues seem to be escalating into major hassles these days, causing them to not speak to each other for hours— or in the worst case scenario, days. They will both actively spend their time avoiding each other, too stubborn to apologise. You’d think that after years of working to improve their relationship something would have changed by now.   
  
Fushimi is aware that he’s not actually irritated because Misaki was comparing his own job to the Blue’s; it is probably just a small part of it. It reminds him of what his boyfriend let accidently slip one time. Whenever Fushimi gives him the cold shoulder, Misaki would play a sort of game in his head. ‘ _Guess why Saruhiko is mad this time’_.   
  
Completely idiotic of course, and only the Red would be able to come up with it, but apparently it gives Misaki the opportunity to actually _think_ for once. He had tried to explain his ‘game’ to Fushimi once, but the raven is almost certain that the airhead he has for a boyfriend doesn’t even understand the rules to his own game, because it came out as a mess.    
  
What he does remember of what Misaki told him is that he would replay different situations in his head, all in order to find out why his partner fell out to him this time. _So much trouble, and for what?_ , Fushimi thinks to himself.   
  
His reasons to be angry belong to him alone, but what he will never admit out loud is that sometimes it even helps _him_ figure out why he is feeling irritated when he cannot quite follow his own trail of thoughts. In his head he starts with Misaki’s invented game.  
  
He might have been annoyed because of his bad day at work. His comrades had been on his back all day. If it were not sloppy, half-finished reports, then it was the daily, very unnecessary chit-chat he had to put up with. They are still trying to let Fushimi participate in any social activities. After all these years you’d think they would get the message. He will absolutely _never_ go out for drinks again with his ‘colleagues’ after that incident with Domyoji two years ago, when Scepter 4’s biggest child finally came to a legal age and they all went out to celebrate. Fushimi didn’t celebrate, but he still regrets that he had been present that day.    
  
He quickly pushes that thought aside. _Focus._ Perhaps the reason he got so irritated was Misaki’s skateboard which had been in his way when he came in, and the mess he left their sitting room in. His boyfriend had promised after all that he would clean up behind his always moving butt after all the other day before Saruhiko would return home. Or was it when Misaki awoke and Fushimi tried to kiss him…  
  
_Ah.  
  
_ “Listen, Saru, I’ve had a long day. And you probably did as well. Can we…not do this now?”  
  
“Not do this now.” He repeats the words slowly; they are almost leaving his lips automatically. He can feel his heart protesting (at least, he thinks that ache in his chest is his heart), but he already said it. What’s the point at stopping now? They’re down on this road again, where they will argue and one of them is bound to sleep on the sofa tonight. It will be Misaki, he decides for them now, because it seems he already made himself comfortable on it. “Like you did not clean the mess you made because you’re tired. Did you even do the groceries at all, or are we ordering pizza, _again_?”  
  
“Fuck you Saru! Since when do you care about unhealthy food?” Misaki spits back at him. “You are twenty-three for fucks sake, and you still try to avoid eating vegetables every goddamn meal!”   
  
“Tsk,” Fushimi’s tongue click was not necessarily irritation towards him this time, but more because he knows the other is right. If only admitting that wouldn’t be such a dent in his pride. “Don’t start comparing apples with pears now, Misaki. We were talking about how you are complaining about that you’re oh-so very tired because you finally get to taste what a real job feels like.”   
  
From the corner of his eye notices Misaki’s fists clenching tightly together. These childish arguments, they are adults now and yet they are still fighting like teenagers they once were. Only now there aren’t any knives involved. _Not yet._ “I work my ass off every fucking day to support us with an actual job in an actual office instead of putting boxes away and skateboarding in my free time.”   
  
Misaki doesn’t argue with him, his lips are pursed into a small line, but his eyes are screaming war. He knew it, so Misaki _is_ trying out a new strategy in order to avoid turning this unnecessary argument into something bigger. Unfortunately for him, Fushimi sees right through his plan, and his mood does not allow him to drop it. Apparently he is trying to let Fushimi do the talking, and hold back on defending himself. It’s a clever one, better than the time he once tired to always agree with Fushimi during a conflict. He answered everything with “ _Yes Saruhiko, I’m sorry Saruhiko.”_ , which had only added more fuel to the Blue’s rage. He had not exchanged a single word with him for a full day, not even when Misaki came to apologise. _Bloody stubbornness.  
  
_ The officer is going through the list in his head one more time, but other than the failed attempt to kiss him nothing comes up that could have caused this irritation. It is almost like he is unable to stop once he gets into this mood, which is frustrating him at the same time, because he fails to understand his own logic. He knows it’s not based on logic however, it’s something related to feelings he still cannot quite process. This only happens when he is around his boyfriend, too. They have always fought, even over the smallest things, but nowadays their quarrels seem to occur on daily bases, and on an entire new level. It begins as a minor debate about work, their free time, house holding, Misaki’s friends, _vegetables_ , and it ends in endless bickering back and forth. Their honeymoon phase is left far behind.   
   
He feels an immense rage rise within him. Fushimi is sick of this and _so_ very tired of coming home just to start a new argument after they solved the other. They barely see each other because of their busy schedules revolving around work, but when they do, there’s this tense atmosphere as if they are both preparing themselves for something that triggers a new disagreement. Sometimes the Red explodes; often it’s the Blue’s annoyance that sets things off. This is not what he had imagined when they finally stopped being each other’s enemy after years, and started dating. He had always called Misaki naïve, but perhaps he is too. After all, he has a huge blind spot when it comes to Homra’s ex vanguard. Had he really thought that everything would be better the second time? That this wouldn’t happen anymore? Who was he kidding. They will never change.    
  
_But why now? Why not three years ago?  
  
_ “Do you know what your problem is, Misaki? You cannot accept changes. You are still stuck at the same stupid job, for the same stupid employer, who only hired you to babysit his kids, with the same stupid minimum wage. When are you finally planning on growing up? If it wouldn’t be for Mikoto’s death you’d still be stuck there at that bar, being a fulltime NEET, and _fanboying_ about your precious King!”  
  
There you have it, right on time. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s nearly ten in the evening and it’s time for _The Big Mistake_. Fushimi has just crossed a line he wasn’t supposed to. Since when did he start saying the opposite of what he is actually trying to say again?    
  
_Because you_ wanted _to say it, right?  
  
_ Fushimi ignores the voice in his head and quickly reaches his hand out to his boyfriend, but the other pushes himself back in the cushions of the sofa, away from Saruhiko’s touch. Yes, he might have been naïve all these years, he realises, as both of Misaki’s hands grab him by his collar and yank him forward.   
  
“You fucking monkey! You are talking about how _I_ can’t accept change, while it’s _you_ who is still clinging onto arguments from the past! How dare you bring up _him_ in this conversation! This is between us, Saru! Not Homra, not your stupid comrades! Do you think that after almost ten years of knowing you I don’t know what you’re doing? Wanna fight me? _Fine!_ But face me head on instead of stabbing me in the back again after all this time!”  
  
It is _because_ he knows his partner for almost a decade that Misaki expects that his partner will now draw a knife from his sleeve and will literally fight him. He quickly lets go of him, his hands balled into fist next to his body, ready to defend, or in the worst scenario; fight back. But the knife is not coming, and the painful ache in his chest does not follow, at least not physically. When the redhead looks up he sees that the look in his boyfriend’s eyes has changed. His face remains unreadable, but his eyes are softer. When their eyes meet, Fushimi averts his gaze. This is…new. Even for Fushimi.   
  
“Stabbing is my speciality, after all.”  
  
“ _Hah?!_ ”  
  
Misaki’s staring at the other with an open mouth. If it wouldn’t be for the serious look on Fushimi’s face, he would have thought that the officer had just attempted to make a joke.   
  
Fushimi clicks with his tongue. “Sorry.”   
  
He had been able to restrain himself just in time, or actually a bit too late perhaps, the worst has already been said. It is not the first time that Fushimi apologises without needing to be encouraged first. It is something they have worked on the past couple of years. Misaki needed to teach him.   
  
Loving, communicating, their relationship. It had been new for the both of them. Yata might not have had the easiest youth, but his mother and stepfather had loved him. Fushimi couldn’t even start to imagine what ‘love’ was supposed to mean. He had never felt before how it feels when someone loves you, and when you love someone back. Yata has spent hours trying to explain to him how it feels when you’re in love. The taller one of the two of them has never really understood what he meant, but Yata is convinced that if he could describe it, Fushimi feels the same. Even when the latter is still in doubt. Of course he has said it out loud, plenty of times, but sometimes Yata still picks up the hesitation in his voice. The scars and insecurities Fushimi Niki left with his boyfriend long after his death.   
  
But his apology is just a façade this time, to lock up his actual feelings. The irritation, and ignorance in regard to the core of his feelings, feel heavy on the Blue’s chest. Apologies are not enough, talking about it is not enough. He wants to solve this, forget this feeling, put it away and pretend everything is fine. Something the oblivious redhead still seems to believe.

_But it’s not fine, Misaki.  
  
_ Fushimi often wishes that he could feel the smaller’s innocence for once. Get a taste of how it feels to desperately continue to cling on to that one small thread of hope, instead of letting go before your hands are even starting to ache, because you know you cannot keep holding on forever. It’s his speciality; break it before it breaks you.  
  
So Fushimi does what he does best. Replace the unpleasant feeling for something else, and ignore it until the next argument. He pushes Misaki down on the sofa, their lips pressed together again. Not even a yawn will stop him this time. His long fingers are eagerly running through Misaki’s bewildered hair. He cannot say with certainly whether his boyfriend is actually returning the kiss or not.   
  
_Don’t worry, Misaki, I will make the both of us feel good again.  
  
_ His cold hand slides under Misaki’s shirt. Misaki feels warm. He is always warm. Usually this familiar warmth gives him an almost safe and secure feeling, but now he wishes that his hands would not always be this cold. And that Misaki’s body would not be this hot. It feels like their characters are coming through their pores. As if his body is trying to make something clear to him.  
  
_You’re cold.  
  
_ Another cold hand slips underneath Misaki’s uniform, this time reaching out for the waistband of Misaki’s trousers. He gasps for air when five hot fingers wind around his wrist. It feels like he has burnt himself, like Misaki’s hands are on fire. But that’s impossible.   
  
His own hands are being pulled back. Away from the trousers, away from Misaki’s warm body. Fushimi fails to figure out if they are playing a game, and if he is even playing along. He pushes his own hands back with so much force that he ends up pinning the smaller figure underneath him on the sofa to keep him in place. His hips are rocking forward, grinding the lower half of his body against his partner’s. The only place on his body that actually feels hot.  
  
_I’m burning.  
  
_ Suddenly he feels a sharp pain his in stomach. The Blue loses his balance and falls backwards, with a soft thump he lands on the floor besides the sofa. It takes a moment for the haze in his head vanishes, and he’s able to process what just happened.   
  
“What the hell Misaki? What was that all about?”  
  
He sits up, arms folding over his stomach where he still feels the pressure of Misaki’s sudden movement. His boyfriend is still half in shock on the couch, taken aback by his own action. His foot is still floating above the cushions. He had just kicked his boyfriend in the stomach.    
  
“Sorry, but… I’m not sorry!” The redhead yells out. His hazel eyes seem to breathe fire, but behind the rage, there’s tears burning in the corners. “You can’t just apologise to me and expect that everything is fine! You brought up Mikoto-san, after we promised not to talk about him anymore! We made that promise for you, so _you_ wouldn’t feel jealous or left out anymore! But that seriously fucking hurt, Saru! And I can’t just forgive you now, and I especially can’t be having sex with you!”   
  
After those words Misaki abruptly jumps off the couch, grabs his skateboard, and flees the house. Leaving the confused Fushimi behind, in their still-dark living room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst no-one actually asked for (you did though).

There was once a time in Fushimi’s life that he was afraid of the dark. It felt as if the walls were coming down on him, and the air was being squeezed out of his lungs. The fear started when he was a child. Any other parent would reassure their child, comfort it and tell them that because it’s dark it doesn’t mean that something bad will happen, every parent except Fushimi Niki. In fact, his own father was the reason for the arise of his fear. He was unable to see in the dark, and that made his father even more dangerous. He is always on his guard when the lights are off, prepared for an unexpected movement in the pitch black corners. That man is the reason he often fell asleep clutching a kitchen knife in his small hand. Even when he started living together with Misaki, after that man was long dead and he lived between the secured walls of Scepter 4, he still occasionally woke up with one of his knives clamped up firmly in his hand.  
  
He knows that his fear is irrational, that this anxiety is only happening in his head, but that does not make it any less real. A cold chill is crawling over his body. He is alone.  
  
No longer is he convinced that it’s only Misaki’s warmth that he misses in the apartment. His eyes, now habituated to the darkness, are scanning the furniture. The sofa where his boyfriend had just been sleeping on. The coffee table with an empty can of soda and an empty plate from the dinner Misaki had prepared for himself. The skate magazines, the console on the floor, the pictures on the wall of Misaki and his friends. Everything in the apartment, _Misaki’s apartment,_ is screaming the redhead’s presence. Misaki’s furniture, Misaki’s belongings, Misaki’s friends. A very uneasy feeling washes over him.  
  
Why does the sitting room they live in together feel so unfamiliar? He is feeling like a stranger in his own home. Yes, they were going to live in Misaki’s apartment because it was the most logical thing to do. His apartment was already decorated, and all Fushimi had to do was move in. It just seemed convenient. He didn’t feel the need to purchase new furniture, a sofa is a sofa. All he had taken from his dorm room at Scepter 4 were his laptop and some clothes. He never attached importance to personal belongings. It’s unnecessary, a waste of money, you lose it…  
  
_it gets destroyed._  
  
They have been living under the same roof for three years, but would he be able to name something that truly belongs to him? Everything may be debited from his account, but it’s picked by Misaki. He feels more like a temporary guest who’s been crashing on his friend’s couch for way too long, than someone who lives there.  
  
_Would he notice if I’m gone?_  
  
Startled by his own thoughts he pushes himself back into standing position. His legs feel stiff because of the forced position he had been in, seated on the floor, and he threatens to fall over. Despite the fact that no-one could see him he feels the red of shame creeping up to his cheeks when he almost loses his balance. It brings him back to the moment when he failed to hold it, and crashed with his face into his Captain’s puzzle. The Blue King had said nothing about it to make him feel as embarrassed, he only stressed again that he could use a hidden weapon user, while Fushimi lay there with his mouth full of puzzle pieces. He had not even smiled, in the way only Munakata Reisi can. A smile he would learn to read years later.  
  
Very un-Munakata like, but when he was still King he had only brought up once the event that happened before Fushimi attacked one of his clansmen.  
  
It had been his birthday, the whole Scepter 4 squad had gathered together for an emergency meeting, except Fushimi, who was trying to work and especially ignore them in his corner. One absurd idea came after another about what they might give the Blue King for his birthday. After another insane idea from Domyoji (who else) was rejected because they would absolutely not bring the Captain to a karaoke bar, they desperately turned to the Third in Command for his advice. Hidaka had been brave enough to speak first.  
  
“You know Captain best, Fushimi-san, what do you think we should give him?”  
  
Fushimi wanted to protest that because he is third in command it does not imply that he knows their King best. The man may ‘favour’ him in a way, strike a conversation with him about the most unusual things, which he unfortunately all remember due his good memory, and Captain Munakata takes him on questionable business trips which are more trips than business related, but that does not mean he knows the man. Instead of wasting his breath on words his fellow comrades will never listen to, because the bunch high school gossipers only hear what they want to hear; he clicked his tongue loudly and muttered, “You’re all thinking too difficult. He enjoys small gestures and stupid things, like puzzles.”  
  
And so the idea arose to print a picture of the whole team on a puzzle of ten thousand pieces. Lieutenant Awashima consented directly, and once she was involved there had been no escaping it. Fushimi had also been in the picture, on his Captain’s side.  
  
If he had to guess Munakata’s emotion when he received the gift, Fushimi would say that he had been moved, or he wanted to show the impression that he was. He often questioned in the past if the Blue King was actually able to feel any real emotions other than what he showed them. Shortly after opening the gift, and studying the photograph they had added as example (not that he would need it), he smiled and his attention was brought to his disinterested Third. “I never thought that there would be a day that I’d be making another puzzle that has Fushimi-kun’s face on it.”  
  
No-one had understood what he meant, because no-one knew of this incident, it had happened when he was still in Homra after all. They had simply dismissed it as yet another inside joke between the Captain and his Third.  
  
Fushimi clicks his tongue loudly at this memory, _bloody annoying_. When he wants to sit on the sofa for something more comfortable to rest his stiff legs, he feels something hard between one of the cushions. It’s not the first time he finds something his boyfriend left behind on the sofa, he leaves sways of his presence everywhere around the room but what catches his attention is that the hard object which was pressing in his back is the cover of a book. “ _Good Times & Bad Times, a hilarious and touching feel good roman about the erratic path of love_” it says. The photo shows some trite landscape, and the description on the back of the book is not much better. There’s a crumpled piece of paper somewhere halfway through the book.  
  
Is this Misaki’s? Since when does he read this crap, or does he read anything in general other than the sports magazines that are scattered throughout the house. He opens the book on the marked page. The female protagonist is just in the middle of a hot, romantic sex scene with her new flame. He could not suppress a smirk. Of course his awkward and easily embarrassed boyfriend had stopped reading there. Or had he…  
  
He examines the book from inside out. It doesn’t look new, but rather as if it’s been read several times. There is no library sticker on it however. Maybe he borrowed it, but from whom? None of the members in Homra would ever touch a book. Anna? She is now fifteen, but would she lend a book like this to Misaki?  
  
His eye catches a small sentence at the bottom of the book. _“Free with the latest_ Thrasher _summer special 2015, a novel to please your wife!”_ If it came with a magazine from 2015, that means he has it for quite some time already but why would he hide it— or read it so often? As if he burnt is fingers on it, he drops the book on the ground, where it falls on its back with a dull thud. The same dull thud the realisation hits him with. How well does he know the current Misaki?

* * *

  
  
“Stupid Monkey, thinking he can solve everything just like that…” Yata murmurs over the rim of his high beer glass, cheeks reddened cause of a mix of frustration and alcohol.  
  
“Yata-chan, you’ll scare my customers away with a face like that~”  
  
“A-Ah, sorry, Kusanagi-san!” Yata jolts upright on his bar stool, eyes on his drink, and the red colour of shame is taking over on his cheeks.  
  
“No problem, it’s my fault for letting you sulk here on your own.” The blonde man heads over to his previous vanguard and pushes the glass to the side. “As bartender it’s my job to take care of my customers. You’re not getting another glass until you tell me what’s eating you.”  
  
Yata shifts uncomfortably on the small stool. Whenever he and Saruhiko have a heavy argument he goes straight to Homra. It is where he feels safe (and Saru could easily find him if he’d ever come looking— something he sometimes did at the start of their relationship). The atmosphere in the bar always does him good. Despite that people come and go, it never seems to change. There’s always at least one or two old Homra members present who come to visit the bar. Often with new friends or partners (especially Chitose, who is doing his best but still doesn’t quite manage to maintain a relationship. Although his current girl seems to have a lot in common with him, and they’re hitting it off nicely).  
  
After the destruction of the Dresden Slate they wordlessly but unanimously decided that they would not fall apart again the way it happened after Mikoto-san’s death. They still have a King, after all. Even the biggest thug has a large weak spot for the 15-year-old girl who now lives under the same roof as Kusanagi and his girlfriend, and former Scepter four Lieutenant Awashima Seri.  
  
“It’s Fushimi-kun, isn’t it?” As always, Kusanagi hits the nail on the head. Yata nods, he finds it difficult to look up at the bartender because he always turns to Homra after a fight. He still wears his heart on his sleeve, so he often ends up talking about his problems here. However, over the years he finds it increasingly difficult to talk about it. They are three years into the relationship, and he seems to sit at the bar more frequently these days. He can’t turn to the old Homra members; they simply don’t understand why he is still together with someone he fights with every other day. He doesn’t dare to bring it up with Kamamoto either. After Saruhiko had betrayed him, after Totsuka-san’s death, after Mikoto-san’s death, the heavy blonde had always been there for him. It didn’t matter how deep he would sink into his depression, Kamamoto always helped him back on his feet. He listened to his endless stream of words whenever he had another encounter with Saruhiko. He was his comfort and stopped him before he could do something stupid, he had often been on the edge of ending his life. When it came to his ex-best friend, he was capable of doing anything.  
  
That is precisely what scares Kamamoto most, and why they are hardly speaking these days. He is thankful that his friend is happy, but he would never approve of his relationship with Saruhiko. Toxic, he calls it. An addiction to the drug called Saruhiko. Sometimes, when things are like this, he thinks Kamamoto could be right. But he’d never admit to that thought.  
  
Because there is no-one left for him to talk to, he always ends up sharing his problems with Kusanagi. It doesn’t matter what he tells him, he always remains friendly, he listens to him, and it makes Yata feel guilty. It will always be the same problems he comes with. They fight, one of them storms away, Yata complains, eventually they make amends and once again the redhead is only able to see the good side of his handsome, and insufferable talented boyfriend.  
  
“It’s stupid,” he says eventually, noticing it came out with more of a slur than he intended. “I ain’t even sure what we were fighting about this time, but I woke up from a nap because I had been real tired okay? And then suddenly we were in an argument! Like, I had literally woken up one minute ago!” Yata pauses, the alcohol tastes bitter on his tongue. Kusanagi just nods, he’s listening. “Like, he can’t just wake me up, argue and expect that I want to fuck him after he said he’s sorry! He said some fucking hurtful stuff too! I thought that… I thought that we were over _that_ already, but he brings up Mikoto-san and that just makes me mad, you know! I can’t even _talk_ about him and Mr. Jealousass feels uneasy, but he…  
  
“he thinks that he can just bring him up like that, i-insult him and _expect_ me to forgive him with a snap of his fingers! Nu-uh! I ain’t doin’ it! He should fuckin’ learn not everythin’ can go accordin’ to his will! I have a say in it too, for fuck’s sake, I have _feelings_ too! But does he ever consider those? No! That bastard only thinks about himself and how he is hurting! I should always be the happy and cheerful boyfriend who is ready with dinner!  
  
“A-And then he wants to have sex?! Is that all I am for that perverted monkey? He thinks that he can say sorry and that I will always be ‘round and forgive him? I t feels like he is, you know, _expecting_ that whenever _he_ makes a mistake _I_ apologise for it! And whenever Saruhiko is ‘sorry’ ‘bout somethin’, it is _expected_ that I just forgive him! When he is mad, or annoyed, I have to _guess_ what happened to him – I have to guess if it was my fault, or someone else’s. Even when it ain’t my fault, he just pushes everything on me anyway! Everything in that house is about me actin’ according to Saruhiko’s moods! And he doesn’t tell me, I just have to _figure out_ when to talk and when to be silent! And one wrong move means death penalty! That’s fucking unfair, right?!”  
  
Yata needs to pause to catch his breath. Kusanagi is silent, his smile has vanished. “Yata-chan, how often do you see Fushimi-kun?”  
  
The furious redhead blinks and stares at him with a defeated gaze. How often he sees his boyfriend? They are dating, they are living together, so you’d say every day, but that’s not the case. Fushimi comes home late often, or stays to keep working overnight. They hardly ever dine together anymore. Yata leaves early in the morning because he has to open the store. Both work the entire day, and when they see one another, they argue.  
  
“When was the last time you sat down and really _talked_ to each other, without the quarrels?”  
  
Yata is starting to feel sick, is it the alcohol? The last time they really talked to each other …  
When they were just starting to become friends again they sat together for hours, and once they were dating they’d do the same, but in each other’s arms. They talked about whatever came to their minds. The time flew by and they kept talking until one of them fell asleep. They had so much to tell each other, they had missed out on so much from each other that he and Saruhiko had to get to know each other all over again. Every day was exciting and different. When Fushimi came home, he worked hard so they could have dinner together, Yata would surprise him with a new dish (with no vegetables— or just a few). He had even managed to drag him out sometimes on the weekend, to a bar or amusement park or zoo. They now seem to live along side of each other. He could not even say with certainty what Fushimi is currently showing slight interest in. They are stuck in a rut of leaving for work, coming home, and fight. It has become a part of their daily routine.  
  
The ex-vanguard jumps to his feet, a little wobbly on his legs because of the alcohol, but with new energy and determination to, once he’s home, talk to Saruhiko. Actually talk, about whatever! It doesn’t matter what, and he promises himself to, whatever happens, he will not start an argument. “Thanks, Kusanagi-san!”  
  
“Yata-chan, wait!” Kusanagi calls after him, but he bar door already closes behind him. He doesn’t know what the impulsive ginger got into his head this time, but it was most likely not what he was trying to achieve with this conversation. He hopes that everything will turn out for the better between these two.

* * *

  
  
Three years…. Three years… plus three years when they met for the first time, after that five years that they weren’t on speaking terms… that’s eleven years together. They’ve know each other for over a decade, but what does he know of the current Misaki?  
  
Three years, that was it.  
  
They were together for three years until he betrayed him. They had been friends for three years until he grew bored of his best friend. He remembers how he complained to himself about the lack of interesting conversations he had with Misaki, when the older one was excitedly talking about something that happened with his new friends at Homra. Misaki, with his new powers, had nothing left to destroy.  
  
An immense feeling of fear is taking over his body. Are they repeating the same pattern? _Is he?_  
  
How it was lack of interesting things to talk about the first time, they don’t seem to communicate at all now. What was it that they always talked about in the past, those endless nights together where they did nothing but talk?  
  
_“We’ll take over the world.”_  
  
No, that’s not right, that was when they were fifteen.  
  
_“We’ll rebuilt our World, Saruhiko.”_  
  
Memories of more than a decade ago intertwine with ones of the present, they flow together, form a mess in his head. Nothing seems to fit together.  
  
In the past, when Misaki wanted something, he’d butt in without reading the atmosphere. No matter how many times Fushimi pushed him away, he’d always bounce right back, and before he knew it, he allowed to let him stay by his side. Until that moment that he didn’t bounce back, but shattered to pieces against the wall of that dreaded alley.  
  
Misaki is still impulsive, and once he’s excited about something he doesn’t consider how others feel, but the difference with ten years ago is that Fushimi had not pushed him away. He had actually wanted him back in his life. They had started talking it all out, all his feelings about Homra lay exposed on the table. That confessed that he had never felt at home, that he was jealous of Misaki’s new world, something he didn’t feel a part of anymore. He told him about that man, the Niki virus, and finally, with great difficulty he admitted how he had felt in the presence of the late Red King. After all he has done to Misaki, fought with him, left deep scars on him physically and mentally, the redhead still wanted to be with him. What was still left of the bounce ball that he had once destroyed, gradually started rolling back into his direction. He was a part of Misaki’s life again. He was Misaki’s life.  
  
He was forgiven.  
  
For years he could not held it possible that there was a chance that Misaki would forgive him. The first nights at his dorm room at Scepter 4 he could lay awake for hours, repeating the scene in the alley over and over again. He went over every detail, how after every word that he spitted out his once best friend’s expression changed from hurt to pure hatred. That is what he lived on. He might never be forgiven.  
  
_“I forgive you.”_  
  
The first time he had spoken those words were when Fushimi was still in the hospital, even before the dark haired man started talking. It had been something typically Misaki logic. He had been thinking beforehand that, whenever Fushimi would be ready to drag the other out of the dark about the truth of his betrayal, Misaki would forgive him without a doubt.  
  
The more Fushimi told him, the more his feeling of uncertainty grew. He was still convinced that after hearing the full story, Misaki would change his mind. He could never be forgiven. He was discharged from the hospital, but still bed-bound when Misaki came to visit him at his dorm room at Scepter 4. It was the first time he visited him there, and he seemed shocked to see the bare walls and lack of personality in the room. He protested against that Fushimi would be sitting on his bed all day, working on his laptop, and somehow manged to engage the Captain into it. Who also thought it was a splendid idea to let Fushimi rest somewhere that was not in the office, and where he would not be surrounded by the temptations such as his desk, laptop and PDA so he could proceed to work. Misaki hadn’t said it out loud, but the excuse that they were friends again, and that it would be no trouble for him at all to take care of Fushimi said enough.  
  
_“I’ve forgiven you, you can come back home now.”_  
  
Another week or two went by before Fushimi could continue explaining his story, between his rehabilitation, secretly working while Misaki was at work, and stubbornly ignoring the subject— little by little he told the redhead why he acted the way he did. However, he was on medications, so a lot of his memory from around that time is blurry. The painkillers for his leg, and antidepressants for whatever the hell those doctors decided was wrong with him. Fushimi often refused to take them. Other than that he downright hates swallowing something that is not made by Misaki, he didn’t feel like himself. He felt numb and closed off from the world, but Misaki insisted. He does suspect his boyfriend of somehow putting his meds in his food, but he never admitted to it; saying that Fushimi is such a picky eater that he would have noticed if something would be in his rice.  
  
Like Misaki, Fushimi would like to believe that everything can be forgiven. Things did actually go well for them for a while. They had made clear agreements about their communication in the early months. Homra, and especially Mikoto-san, were a sensitive subject, so they would refer from talking about it together. Misaki would talk to his friends about his late King, and Fushimi was no longer allowed to use it as last triumph card and defence method when a discussion got too close and he felt the need to destroy instead of talk it out.  
  
Additionally, they had rules about their discussions, simple rules Misaki had found on the internet for couples that actually need therapy. When a discussion would get too intense they would use a ‘safe word’ (pineapples— Misaki’s choice, of course). If one of them used it, more often the redhead than himself, then they’d stop the fight immediately and each withdraw to a different room for about an hour. After that hour they’d get together again so they could talk about what had caused the argument to escalate.  
  
Surprisingly enough, this worked, in the beginning. As a precaution, his boyfriend had sent the rules to his PDA so he could read them over during a discussion.

**_The Time-out rules_**  
  
_1\. Both partners may request a timeout._

_2\. Both partners respect it as the other partner applies for a timeout_

_3\. A time out is requested when the stresses become too high._  
  
_4\. A time-out is requested by saying the word "time out" (or another agreed to word)._  
  
_5\. A time-out takes at least thirty minutes and more, depending on experience (also agree to a maximum time)_  
  
_6\. If the time-out takes effect, both partners take physical distance from each other. The timeout requester goes first off._  
  
_7\. Both partners look for distraction that reduces the tension._  
  
_8\. Both partners think about a constructive way to resume the conversation, or write their thoughts about the conflict. They also note their share of the escalation._  
  
_9\. The applicant for the timeout is responsible for restoring the contact._

_10\. The partners will not directly turn the conversation to the source of the timeout._  
  
The both of them are very different in their ways of being angry. Misaki’s rage is impulsive, consists of incomprehension of the situation. His frustration of not understanding, and not to be understood comes results in anger. He turns red, fists clenched together, he raises his voice, and his vocabulary drastically deteriorates, with at least one unnecessary swearword or two in every sentence. Which is ironic, because communication is very important to the ginger. He prefers confrontation, he’d rather fight than walk away. This then results in a typical Yata-and-Fushimi argument where neither of them is backing down and insult follows after insult, and painful statements are made. However, as quickly as Yata gets angry, it fades very fast too. He can hold a grudge, sure, but he does feel regret about the things he said and wants to touch him to make it right. That’s the worst thing he could do to Fushimi when he’s in a mood, because the younger one is the exact opposite.   
  
Unlike Misaki, Fushimi is not easily angered. Annoyed perhaps, enable to react angrily to the other, but it takes a lot more for him to become furious. There’s a huge difference. However, because his frustration builds up slowly during the day, everything he held in comes out at once. He is not one to raise his voice, instead he turns cold, distant, shuts off all his emotions and can only focus on those venomous words that leave his mouth in order to hurt the other. Hissing his insults at the person he claims to love. Accusations, assumptions, underlying irritation and jealousy. He says things he doesn’t mean, he says things he has kept inside for too long and started to lead their own life in his head. He does not feel regret, and he especially can’t stand to be touched at a time like that. It takes longer for him to calm down. Therefore, the distance that comes with the safe word was a good solution for him, it allowed him to get back to his senses.   
  
He cannot remember when they stopped using their rules, and if there was a reason for it, but eventually they were forgotten and there was no safe word and no time apart. Arguments, invectives, plates and sometimes knives would fly over and over again through the room.   
  
Fushimi gradually discovered that no matter how hard Misaki believes in it, no matter how much he tries, it is impossible to forgive and forget their past.   
  
“ _Yeah, walk away! That’s what you always do!”_ When he walks out of the room because he doesn’t want a confrontation.  
  
“ _You have no right to say that after what_ you _did to us!”_ When he tries to defend himself.  
  
_“Stupid monkey!”_ There’s a difference between when his boyfriend is just upset, or when he wants to deliberately hurt him.   
  
The past always comes back to haunt him.   
  
His hand goes almost automatically to his collarbone. It is still a bad habit whenever he feels nervous, anxious, irritated, very embarrassed, caught on emotions he tries to hide, or when he’s insecure. When Misaki notices he usually grabs him by the wrist. Often gently, and he brushes his thumb over his arm in a soothing way. Sometimes harsh, and he squeezes his wrist as if he’d want to rip his hand off to prevent himself from harming his own skin. You could hardly call it self harm these days, his intention isn’t to hurt himself anymore when his sharp nails are scrapping over his skin, but it’s something his muscles remember. He can’t stop it.   
  
Misaki tries so hard to make them work, and what does he give back to him for that? Anger, fear, uncertainty, and pain. He tries to think of a few months ago, _a year?_ How long has he been feeling his unhappy? Caught in the same rhythm.  
  
When did “ _you’re amazing_ ” turn into “ _I don’t want to have sex with you”_ ?   
  
Since when is Misaki able to pronounce that word without stuttering and blushing, has he missed that? His Misaki, who is Misaki?

His fingers push deeper into his flesh, the burning sensation on his skin no longer feels as good as it used to do, but it’s somehow comforting. As if he can punish himself every time he burns his fingers on the warmth of his blood against his cold, pale skin. It feels as a way out, a relief, he can still feel even though breathing becomes difficult for him. He bleeds, he feels pain, he is alive.  
  
“ _You’re amazing, Saruhiko!”_  
  
_“Traitor!”_  
  
_“I missed you.”_  
  
_“I want to understand you.”_  
  
_“I think I love you.”_  
  
_“I don’t want you.”_  
  
**_You’re not good enough._**  
  
A hard, cold wind is coming through the open window, toys with his hair and sends a cold, unpleasant shiver down his spine. Somewhere in the house a door slams shut.  
  
He tenses up, immediately on guard and aware of the darkness, aware of that the last thought that was haunting his mind did not sound like his own voice. With trembling hands, he reaches for the height of his hip, feeling the holster there. Three years ago their swords were replaced by guns. Even though patrol is not part of his job anymore, Munakata still wanted him to follow the shooting classes. He has no trouble handling the gun, but he has a preference for something sharpers. He clenches his hands together, resisting the urge to draw a knife. He’s not alone, he’s merely on his own in the apartment. He is not weak and matchless, he knows how to defend himself now, he has others he could rely on if he’d let himself, he has Misaki.  
  
_Misaki._  
  
_**Mii~saa~kii~**_  
  
No, that is not him anymore. Those days are far behind him. Whatever would happen to him, that never again. That psychopath who was obsessed with Misaki’s hatred, who destroyed everything before it got a chance to grow, that miserable boy who lived in his own world until he smashed everything to pieces. The teenager who lived on jealousy and self-loathing, who could get off on the thought of Misaki’s strong fingers enclosing around his throat until he could no longer breathe. A death by Misaki’s hands, that’s not something he desires anymore.  
  
**_Are you sure?_**  
  
Yes, he is sure. Death was something he longed for, that someone, preferably Misaki, would release him from his endless suffering. He sometimes contemplated suicide, but that sounded too simple. Death was something he desired, and he was still convinced that good things do not happen to him. There was always something – someone – that kept him alive.  
  
**_And what do you have left when he leaves?_**  
  
“He won’t.”  
  
When did he start answering aloud to the voices in his head? _Because they don’t feel like my thoughts._  
  
_**He has Homra, his job, his friends, his family.**_  
  
_**Who do you have left when he gets tired of you?**_  
  
_**You are alone.**_  
  
A cold breeze against his neck, his fingers are moving automatically. Before he knows it there’s a knife in the wall. A laugh echoes through the room, through his head, against the walls. Fushimi turns, two knives follow in quick succession. A shadow is standing in the doorway to their bedroom.  
  
“Get out of my head!” His voice echoes through the room this time, and it makes him realise that the voice he heard previously indeed did not belong to him.  
  
Light, he needs light. In every horror movie he watched with his boyfriend the protagonist would face the same dilemma, they would never pick the most logical solution. All he has to do is turn on the lights so he can prove to himself that the ghost he sees is an illusion in the dark, his anxiety causes his brain to dysfunction. It’s not the first time this is happening, after all. Slowly, step by step, he walks backwards until he’s standing with his back against the wall, his eyes fixated on the dark shadow before him.  
  
His hand is brushing over the cold wall until he finds the switch, he flips it and the light flickers on.  
  
The shadow is still there.  
  
It is wearing the face of his dead father.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much if you're still here! Can't promise that chapter three will be better, but I'm excited for it!  
> Please share your thoughts in the comments, I'd love to know what you think.  
> Thank you Rachelle for always supporting me wah ;A; <3
> 
> Follow me on twitter as AddictedPenguin! 
> 
> Small note: Everything is based on own personal experience with an abusive relationship put in Fushimi Saruhiko and Yata Misaki context + the knowledge I have as a Social Work student. This is just my point of view, nothing is right or wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Domyoji has a monologue no one asked for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all: cleaning up some misunderstandings! This is not a ReiSaru-fic. Please do not panic at the sight of his name, their relationship is purely platonic in this specific fanfic. :D

Munakata Reisi is a man of honour. He takes pride in his work, as Blue King, and after that. Upon taking over Scepter 4 when he had just become King he worked efficiently. He was aware of his cause, what is goal was and exactly how he wanted to achieve this. He was able to set every step of the road out according to his will. He chose the men and women within Scepter 4. The specific profess of joining Scepter 4 is unknown to men, aside from there being a written portion. Once the new members are deemed worthy by the King, they are given their uniform and unique sabre, through which they also obtain their Aura abilities after accepting it. They do not need to shake his hand, nor do they have to collect a certain amount of points to increase their rank, all they need to require is determination and the desire to progress. It seemed as Scepter 4 was a reasonably approachable clan, seeming to allow anyone into their ranks, even former members of the rivalling Clansmen. However, it is not entirely correct to say that there was no test for Scepter 4, not a visible one at least.  
  
The Blue King reads people the same way as he read every book that was worthy of his time, all neatly collected and organised in a large, old bookcase against the wall of his office. Only those who are worthy, those who he can trust and are willing to place themselves between him and imminent danger, those men and women who would renounce everything to swear allegiance to the Blue Clan, passed his test. It usually only took one mere second, a quick glance, to pass this test.  
  
Once, during a friendly gathering at Homra’s bar, he had been seated on one of the stools with a bourbon with ice, and the former Red King at his side with apple juice— he had overheard a rather interesting conversation between one of his men and a couple of curious members of the Red Clan. They wanted to know exactly how Domyoji ended up in Scepter 4. He had heard that story plenty of times, but he had pricked his ears when the man with light brown hair and a cigarette between his lips, asked his clansman how exactly you became a member of the Blue Clan if there was no test. All of the men around him had taken the late Red King’s hand and survived Suoh’s flames.  
  
The redhead had straightened his back and enthusiastically started talking about his experience when he met the Blue King for the first time in person.  
  
“Do you ever have that feeling, that you are asking yourself ‘is that person testing me?’, that’s how I felt when I first stood in his office.  
  
“I had just finished filling in a question list of ten pages with questions if I was prepared to devote my life to Scepter 4, if I understood what it meant to serve a King, if I would be okay with living at the dorms and whatnot. It felt like I was taking my Japanese final all over again!  
  
“Anyway, I had just finished so I never expected to meet the Blue King himself after that. Usual job applications are like ‘thanks for your letter, if you do not hear from us within four weeks you can assume we will not be making use of your services’  
  
“But there I was, in his office, the Lieutenant next to him and a new uniform and sabre on his desk. He looked at me, smiled, and gestured to me that I could take a seat. He apologised even that he had been bold enough to guess my uniform size with the help of the information I had filled in because he wanted it to be ready on time! Can you believe it? I had no idea what was coming over me!  
  
“He asked questions, but it were ordinary questions, you know, not like what you would expect from a man like him! He asked about my hobbies, my roots, simple questions. And yet, I could not stop wondering if he was trying to see through me one way or another. As if he is waiting for a certain answer, and you’d have no clue what he is expecting, and what is right or wrong. So you just keep talking.  
  
“And suddenly, it was over. He thanked me for the _pleasant conversation_ and the Lieutenant would guide me to the dorms so I could get to know my roommate!”  
  
All the curious Homra clansmen had been listening quietly to Domyoji’s monologue. When the white-haired girl next to him shifted slightly on her spot he noted that he hadn’t been the only one who had been eavesdropping their conversation.  
  
“You always ask the right questions, Reisi.” She had said to him.  
  
He cannot say that he agrees. His questions are thought through, and he does not ask questions unless they add value to him in the conversation. But sometimes he asks questions he already knows the answer to, in order to provoke a certain reaction. He asks questions which he knows will be remained unanswered, or about matters that are not his business. Often his Third in Command is a victim of these specific questions. He must admit that he sometimes finds joy in slightly teasing the other man, but he is aware of his Third’s limits, and his own.  
  
That is why he did not ask any questions when he found Fushimi Saruhiko curled up on his bed, his knife clutched in his hand, and with the exception from his missing shoes still fully dressed.  


* * *

  
  
“You’re dead.” Fushimi curses his own voice for trembling; it would be dangerous if ‘Niki’ has even the slightest suspicion that he is afraid of him.  
  
“Not in your head~” He chirps, his voice is exactly as he remembers. A cold, unemotional smile curling on his lips. “It’s been a while since my monkey wanted to play.”  
  
“You’re an illusion.” The first time this had happened all those years ago he had been under the influence of a virus, Niki had never been real and he isn’t now either. It is not Fushimi Niki standing in front of him; it’s just another threshold that he must overcome.  
  
“Clever Monkey, always quick to catch up.” He takes a step closer, standing in the full light now Fushimi is able to see his eyes. They’re very alive, for a dead man. “Fear does strange things to a human. Your brain associates your fears with me. That is why I am here now, but I could be more, something or someone else, your own creations shaped and brought alive by your deepest fears. Darkness, fire, Suoh Mikoto.  
  
“Don’t speak his name.” He hisses, his fingers are cramping around his knife. Breathing has become more difficult for him all of the sudden, and his mouth feels dry.  
  
A shrill laugh fills the room. “I’m your emotions, your fear, your hatred, your passion, even your love.” With the speed of light Niki is suddenly standing in front of him. “I am you.”  
  
Niki’s eyes seem to be flashing blue for a second when they look at each other, the resemblance with his own face he is forced to meet with every time he looks in the mirror, is striking.  
  
Fushimi forces, without thinking but with all his strength, his knife into his father’s chest. When he looks up at the man, his reflection is staring back at him with a tautening grin on his face. He takes a step back and the knife Fushimi is still frantically holding onto disappears effortlessly from his chest. There is no blood to be seen on the blade.  
  
“Mh~” The pleasure in his voice causes Fushimi to quiver. Niki’s long fingers wind around his wrist and he pry his fingers from the hilt of the knife. “Murder is the ultimate way for my son to confess his love.”  
  
The knife has been taking from him, and the way Niki is holding the knife makes him malaise. His gaze is soft, and his fingers are lovingly caressing the sharp blade as if he is holding something precious to him.  
  
“I wanted nothing more than that you came to visit me in the hospital. You would sit next to my bed and you would allow yourself to ask one last question before I’d pass:  
  
_Papa, why?_ ”  
  
The silence after is deafening. Never before has that question crossed Fushimi’s mind. Fushimi Niki had no motive to do something; he did it for the hell of it. He manipulated, belittled, and played with him for the sole reason that he was a callous douche bag.  
  
“The answer was quite simple, you changed my life. I never thought of the emotions of other human beings interesting until you came along, my little monkey. So innocent and naive, the way you looked at the world as a young child. Those bright, blue eyes full of curiosity and fascination for the daily life around you. Your interest in the world; I despised it. Was your _Papa_ not enough for you? Those eyes, they should have been only focused on me.”  
  
_“Misaki! Keep your eyes on me! Your only opponent is me, got it?”_  
  
“So if you could not look at me the same way as you did to the world, then I had to turn the expression in those eyes into something else: fear.”  
  
_“I beg your hate.”_  
  


There is so much Fushimi would want to say, defend himself, show him that he is strong, that he has changed, that he no longer is alone and afraid. He doesn’t hate the world as much as he used to do. He set himself free from that man, and could rise far above him, but there is no movement in his cramped limbs until that man strides to the other side of the room and picks up a picture frame with a photo of him and Misaki. In less than a second he has his hand on his holster and pulls his gun. His hands have stopped trembling as he raises his arms and points the barrel of the gun to Niki. “Put that down.”  
  
Niki does not turn around; he keeps the picture frame between his fingers, Fushimi’s knife in his left hand. “Put that toy away, Saruhiko.” His voice is cold, with a hint of disappointment. “I raised you to be smarter than that.”  
  
Fushimi wants nothing more than to laugh at that man’s face, his ‘father’ did not raise him, no-one has done that for him. He would love to press his rifle against that man’s head, make him feel the fear he had felt as a child when he played one of his games with him. But he refrains from doing so. As much as he hates to admit it, that man is right, just like his knife, these tricks will not affect him. He holds the gun so firmly that knuckles are turning white. This might have been the first time that he, without any company, was called by his first name by that man. No underlying insult, but his name in the same way as every other normal person would pronounce it. The name he gave to him.  
  
“Not even a fool would make the same mistake twice, but maybe a monkey would? Put that away before you embarrass yourself even further. I am ashamed of you.”  
  
“First Misaki.” His voice trembles again, but this time not because of fear, he is furious.  
  
Niki exhales a sigh; it’s his typical sigh when a game starts to bore him. The first time he heard it was when five year old Saruhiko stopped screaming after a while when Niki locked him into a dark closet. It happened when eight-year old Fushimi stopped resisting when Niki surprised him with a trap on his birthday and he was tilted into the air, arms and legs dangling out through the holes of the net. It was when Fushimi no longer cried as eleven year old when his father pressed his cigarette on his arm. It was boredom.  
  
He gently starts humming, a song that sounds vaguely familiar to Fushimi’s ears. The melody brings him back to a nice memory with Misaki. His siblings stayed overnight with them, so that his mother and stepfather had the chance to go out together on their wedding anniversary. Before it was time for bed they had all been seated on the couch and watched a Disney movie, the two children between them on the sofa. Megumi’s request: _Tangled_.  
  
“ _Papa_ knows best~” Niki finishes the song aloud and slowly turns towards his son. “You have always been quite the masochist. Holding onto the people who make you unhappy. It’s almost time, isn’t it? The honeymoon phase as been dying for a while, you have been dodging it for a long time, but it’s difficult to suppress all those small annoyances, hm? Where will you run this time? Back to your King?” Niki cackles at the sight of his son, whose face visibly cringed. “Oh, but he would welcome you with open arms. Perhaps more than that~ I think he quite likes you, little monkey.”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“You have always been his favourite, his hidden weapon user. I wonder, what other weapons are you hiding that are out of his reach?”  
  
“I love Misaki,” he chokes out. “I would never—”  
  
“What is your true reason for staying?” Niki ignores him rather than that he interrupts him. “What is your motive? Remaining unhappy?”  
  
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
  
“You’re still afraid, my monkey. Afraid to be alone, afraid of getting abandoned, afraid of love, afraid of getting hurt, you are afraid of change, you let yourself be miserable because you are afraid of being _happy_. You are still convinced till this day that good things do not happen to you. Thus, you stay here, with him.” His gaze drops, to the photograph in his hands. “Without even considering what would truly make you happy.”  
  
His voice gets something sentimental, which sounds very unfamiliar to his ears. He has always been a good actor. “You are just like her.”  
  
That was the final straw that broke the camel’s back. The pure rage he kept bottling up escapes all at once. “Don’t compare me to any of you!” He snaps, stabilising his position once again, his gun aimed at the height of Niki’s chest where his heart should have been. “You have never been my parents! She wasn’t, and especially you weren’t! You have never cared about me, so don’t come here and play house with me. Play another game of pretend in which you pretend to care. I am done with your bloody mind fuck games!”  
  
“Ouch, my monkey, that hurts me deeply.” His hand brushes over his chest. He noticed what Fushimi is aiming on, but at this moment he could not care any less about it.  
“I just want you to be ha~py~” He rolls the last syllables over his tongue.  
  
Fushimi has had enough, and he does something he hasn’t done in years. He raises his voice. Not like when he wanted to draw Misaki’s attention, nothing the same as when he had his staged fight with his captain, not like any other argument with his boyfriend, but with pure anger and frustration.  
  
“Get out of my life! You ruin everything! There might have been a time that I would have let you, but I have _changed,_ I am not _anything_ like you!”  
  
“I do not need to destroy it for you.” Niki’s shiteating grin grows wider. “You are a Fushimi. You destroy it before it breaks you.”

  
He throws his head back and laughs, spreading his arms, and even before the frame hits the floor Fushimi fires three bullets into Niki’s chest. The light flickers three times before the bulb bursts, as the darkness surrounds him the bullets go right through that man’s body and his appearance fades. Then the picture frame clatters on the floor. The glass breaks, and Fushimi runs.  
  
He flees the house, he had no time to put on his boots and runs over the wet pavement on his socks. The sound of his gun is still echoing through his ears, together with Niki’s last words, they are deafening.  
  
“ _You’re a Fushimi; you destroy it before it breaks you.”_  
  
Left, right, he stumbles over his own feet, his hands getting damaged on the rough surface of the walls. He doesn’t know where he is going, but it doesn’t matter. He must keep running, trying to focus on everything that is not _that man._ The ringing in his ears, his own heavy breathing, the sound of his wet feet on the ground.  
  
“ _What is your true reason for staying?”_  
  
Left, into an alley. It’s dark without the lanterns on the side of the road, but he keeps going; straight ahead.  
  
“ _What is your motive?”_  
  
His feet are slipping and he tumbles over. He can catch himself on his hands and knees, preventing himself from falling on his face. The blow causes his glasses to fall. His wet hair is sticking onto his face; water is flowing in small trickles down over his cheeks. For a moment it’s silent, except for the constant ringing in his hears and his rapid breathing. The rain is tapping on the iron trash cans behind him.  
  
“ _Remaining unhappy?”_  
  
He grabs his glasses and pushes himself back onto his feet, ignoring the pain in his scuffed hands and knees. He flees the dark alley before the walls have the chance to close up on him. He has not once looked over his shoulder.  
  
“ _Where will you run this time?”_  
  
His pace slows; he tries to find orientating points. The neighbourhood seems fancy; he is surrounded by large mansions. He must be near to his old home. But that is not the only reason why he recognises this street. He has been here before. The key of one of these houses is hanging on his narrow bunch of keys. The spare key to the house of Munakata Reisi.  
  
“... _back to your King?”_  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final note: Those who might question the intensity of Fushimi's hallucinations; I get it. But not just speaking from my own experience, what he has been through was a lot. Everything 'Niki' said to him are his own worries, desires, insecurities and other matters he deals with (sub)consciously. 
> 
> Sorry for a lot of Fushimi this chapter? He is what I am most comfortable with, I have trouble with Yata! But he will be back at least next chapter! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please share your thoughts with me, I'd love to know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it (or not) please share your thoughts with me in the comments, or contact me on twitter as @DeadlyGlamour_ , or anywhere else as AddictedPenguin.
> 
> Second chapter will be up somewhere next week. Probably. I suck at deadlines!


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